The Secret of Pirates' Hill (14 page)

On reaching Pirates' Hill with their digging tools, Joe became restless, “I hate to wait until sunset. Can't we start?”

“Sure. We've been here so much the past few days I can tell you exactly where the sun has been setting.”

Frank pointed to a distant church spire. “Right there.” He took a compass from his pocket and moved about until his back was due east of the spire. “The cannon should be somewhere along this line,” he said and shuffled through the sand.

“The directions said ‘high rock,' ” Joe re minded him. “There are rocks under the sand. Let's try the highest point on this line.”

The boys set to work. All afternoon they dug furiously. Finally, as the sun was about to set, Frank's spade struck metal!

“Joe,” he cried, “this must be it!”

A moment later they uncovered the curve of a barrel, and judging from its dimensions, they were convinced that this was the Spanish demiculverin for which they had been searching.

“Success!” Frank exclaimed.

Then suddenly he sobered. “We'd better be careful,” he said. “Somebody might be spying on us.”

“You're right,” Joe agreed. “Let's cover up the gun again. It's getting dark and we won't be able to dig the whole thing up tonight.”

Shoveling quickly they concealed the valuable discovery until they could come back the next day and uncover it completely. Then, to bewilder any prying eyes, the Hardys decided to make small excavations at other spots.

A short time later two figures appeared over the dunes. Tony Prito and Chet!

“We came out in the
Napoli,”
Tony said, “Figured you'd be here. We called your house and your mother gave us a message for you.”

“About Gorman,” Chet added. “The police left word that he's not in St. Louis.”

“Just as we suspected,” Joe said.

Then Frank, in a low voice, told about finding the demiculverin. “Wow!” Chet exploded.

Tony congratulated his friends and asked what their next move would be.

“We'll dig up the whole cannon tomorrow,” Frank replied.

“I sure wish we could stay here tonight and get an early start,” Joe said. “Say, why don't we camp out and stand guard over the cannon?”

“Swell idea,” Frank agreed.

Tony offered to go back in the Hardys' car and pick up a tent, sleeping bags, and food.

“I'll call your folks and tell them,” he promised.

Two hours later the camp on Pirates' Hill was ready, with the tent pitched on the cannon site. As the stars came out, the Hardys and Chet crawled into their shelter. Tony had volunteered to stand guard first and posted himself outside the tent flap.

At eleven o'clock he became aware of an approaching figure. Instantly he awoke his sleeping pals. They waited tensely until the person was almost within reach.

“Get him!” Joe cried suddenly.

The campers lunged out of the shelter. Just as Joe was about to tackle the figure, he recognized him.

“Sergeant Tilton!” he exclaimed.

“So it's you,” drawled the elderly man. He explained that he had spotted their flashlights and had come to see who his neighbors were.

Knowing that the sergeant was inclined to gossip, the boys decided to keep their finding of the cannon to themselves. They chatted casually with Tilton, telling him they had set up camp to be ready for some sleuthing early in the morning.

“Well,” the sergeant said finally, “I reckon I'd better git back to my shack. I suspect you'll all be snorin' soon.” He chuckled and walked off.

The rest of the night passed quietly, with the boys rotating the guard watches as they had planned earlier. By six o'clock they were up and preparing breakfast. After eating, the Hardys and Tony started work under the tent, with Chet acting as lookout.

Within an hour the three had dug a deep pit and uncovered the entire demiculverin. The old fieldpiece appeared to be in good condition.

“What a beauty!” Frank exclaimed.

“And look at this number on it!” Joe cried out. Engraved on the barrel were the numerals 8-4-20. “It must be a code for this type. Let's find out what it stands for.”

Leaving Chet and Tony on guard, the Hardys went home in the convertible to check through their father's books on cannons. Joe's hunch that the numerals might be a code led to nothing. They read on.

Suddenly Frank exclaimed, “I get it! An eight-pound ball and four pounds of powder.”

“And twenty degrees of elevation!” Joe beamed.

Hearing the excited conversation of the boys, Mrs. Hardy looked into the room and asked, “Have you found out something interesting?”

“Sunken treasure!” Joe exulted. “A ball shot from the demiculverin probably marks the spot where the old merchantman was sunk by the pirates in that Battle of Bayport!”

Mrs. Hardy was astounded. She started to praise her sons when the front doorbell rang. Frank hurried down to answer it, Opening the door, he blinked in amazement.

As Frank recovered from his surprise, he said, “Come in,” and called loudly over his shoulder, “Joe! Mr. Bowden's here!”

Joe came down the stairs like a streak of lightning. “What's up now?” he wondered.

Bowden smiled. “Can't stay but a few minutes. Good news travels fast. I understand you've located the cannon I asked you to find!”

The Hardys were dumbfounded.

“I'll have the money for you shortly for solving my case,” Bowden continued. “And I'll send a truck out to Pirates' Hill tomorrow to pick up the demiculverin.”

FRANK and Joe were speechless for a moment. Then Frank asked, “How did you hear we found a cannon?”

The man's reply proved to be another bombshell. “I was out there and your friends told me.”

Frank's mind whirled. He looked at Joe and realized his brother was thinking the same thing. Whatever Bowden's real reason was for wanting the ancient cannon, they were going to keep it from him until further word arrived from their father or the police.

Bowden again seemed to be one step ahead of them. “You don't know it yet, but I own Pirates' Hill.”

“What?” Frank asked, thunderstruck.

Bowden pulled several documents from his pocket. One was a certificate of sale, another a government release, and the third a letter with a notary-public seal. This stated that Bowden had a right to anything found on Pirates' Hill.

“They certainly look authentic,” Frank said, but realized the papers could be clever forgeries.

Mr. Hardy's warning to his sons indicated that Bowden was probably a confidence man. It was possible that he had accomplices who could imitate signatures and print fake documents.

“I must get in touch with Dad about this,” Frank said to himself.

He and Joe knew that the only course was not to let Bowden know of their suspicions. But Joe winced as his brother spoke.

“It looks as if the hill is yours all right, Mr. Bowden. If there's a cannon on it, there may be other treasures, too.”

Frank's assurance pleased Bowden. “I hope you're right. And I'm glad you see the whole thing my way. To tell the truth, I thought you might want the old cannon yourselves. Accept my congratulations for a grand job.”

After he left, Frank said, “I'll bet those papers Bowden showed us are fake!”

Joe nodded. “We'd better let Dad know about this right away.”

Since it was not possible to reach Mr. Hardy by telephone, they composed a telegram in code, mentioning the fact that the cannon had been found and Bowden was claiming it. Frank phoned the message to the telegraph office.

“I hope this information will bring Dad up here,” Joe said. “Bowden is crooked, Frank. We can't just hand him the cannon.”

“Of course not. But don't forget, Joe, digging out the sand around the demiculverin so it can be lifted, and lugging the two tons of iron over the sand may take days. Maybe something will happen in the meantime to stop Bowden.”

“Let's hope so,” said Joe. “Well, how about doing some computing on those numbers we found on the cannon?”

“Good thought.” The boys quickly discovered, however, that they were unable to solve the gunnery problem. Frank suggested that they drive over to see Mr. Rowe, head of the Mathematics Department at Bayport High. “He's teaching summer school. I'm sure he'll be there now.”

They set off for Bayport High and found Mr. Rowe. Intrigued by the problem, he went to work, filling several sheets of paper with calculations. At last he said:

“The cannon ball would land two thousand yards away, if trained and elevated at precisely the angle given in my figures.”

Frank and Joe thanked him, then hurried to their car. On the way back to Pirates' Hill, Frank remarked that if the demiculverin had not been moved, and currents had not shifted the ship, the treasure should be easy to locate.

Joe grinned. “Let's measure two thousand yards from the cannon, then hand it over to Bowden with our compliments!”

Frank reminded his brother that whatever their plans, they had to work fast. He parked off the shore road as before and the Hardys ran up to Chet and Tony.

Suddenly Joe stopped short. Grabbing Frank by the arm, he cried out, “Look! There's Bowden again!”

At the site of the cannon, Bowden and Sergeant Tilton were talking to Chet and Tony.

“Good-by to our plan,” Joe said.

“Maybe not,” Frank remarked. “It might take him some time to catch on to the whole thing.”

Chet and Tony dashed up to meet the boys and whispered that after Frank and Joe had gone back to town, they had continued digging. The two men had caught them off guard.

“You can see the cannon very plainly now,” Tony said. “We thought we'd surprise you and remove all the sand from the front of it.”

“Thanks,” Joe said. “It was a nice idea.”

Frank quickly related Bowden's visit to the house. Tony frowned. “Maybe that gossipy Sergeant Tilton told him we were here.”

As the group reached the men, the Hardys received only a nod from Bowden, but the genial old sergeant began to talk excitedly. He explained that at Bowden's request he was preparing a charge similar to the one he used to test the mortar in the town square at Bayport.

In spite of Bowden's efforts to signal him to keep quiet, Tilton continued, “An' I'm goin' to test the strength o' the barrel fer Mr. Bowden. He wants to be sure it'll be safe fer him to fire off durin' that there exposition in Florida.”

“Are you sure you aren't planning to shoot a cannon ball?” Joe asked suspiciously.

The old gunner protested in disgust. “Of course not. That'd be against the law. I'd have to git permission from the Coast Guard.”

“That's right,” said Joe, eying Bowden to watch his reaction. But the man showed none.

As the boys looked on, Tilton prepared the powder charge and fired the gun. A thunderous boom followed. As the smoke cleared, he rushed back to inspect the cannon.

“She stood up fine!” he exclaimed.

“Well, thanks, Sergeant,” said Bowden. “I guess the cannon will do for the pageant. I'll see you later,” he added as he walked away.

The old man began running his hands along the cannon and talking to himself. “Great piece o' work,” he declared. He turned to Frank and Joe. “I'd like to tell you a bit about this.”

“We'd like to hear it a little later,” said Frank.

The Hardys were eager to locate the old sunken merchantman. When their friends agreed to help, Frank asked Chet to drive to their boathouse in the convertible to pick up the aqualung diving gear. Tony offered the use of the
Napoli
from which to work.

When Chet reached the road, Bowden was just driving away. As his car gathered speed Chet saw a piece of paper blow out the window. Picking it up, he examined it curiously.

“Why, it's a stock certificate of the Copper Slope Mining Company. It must be valuable,” he mused. “I'd better return it to Bowden.”

Suddenly he recalled what Frank and Joe had told him about Bowden selling stock to a man in Taylorville. “This certificate might be phony!”

Chet decided to leave the certificate at the Hardys' home for inspection later on. He got into the convertible and drove to Bayport.

Out on Pirates' Hill, Frank was saying to the old sergeant, “Now tell us about this cannon.”

Tilton beamed. “Firing a gun like this here one is a pretty risky thing.”

He went on to explain that the demiculverin most likely had been used at some Spanish colonial fort before the pirates had captured it. The normal life of such a cannon was twelve hundred rounds. But at an outpost, where it was hard to get new weapons, a piece was always fired many rounds beyond that figure, increasing the danger of explosion with each burst.

“When cracks develop ‘round the vent or in the bore,” Tilton said, “you got to be careful. The muzzle sometimes blows clean off'em!”

Digging away more sand, the boys found that the cannon was mounted on a mahogany four-wheeled truck carriage used on eighteenth-century ships and garrison guns. It was covered with beautiful leaf designs, wrought in iron.

“Look!” Joe cried. “It's chained to a boulder.”

This convinced the Hardys that they had been right in their deductions. The cannon was placed so that a ball fired from it would strike one particular place in the ocean!

The boys took sights along the gun barrel and checked them with their compass
.
The barrel pointed due east. This would make it easy to estimate the approximate spot where the treasure should be. They chafed under the necessity of awaiting Chet's return.